Rustle~
Long, slender fingers turned the pages of the book.
In the sunlight, the boy's pale golden hair shimmered with a soft glow. It wasn't blinding—much like the lazy aura he gave off, it lacked any real aggressiveness.
And yet, it was strange. He looked like an ordinary underage boy, but every movement carried a kind of mature, distinctive grace. It made one wonder—what kind of prestigious family could raise someone like this?
Reading on a moving train was far from ideal. Loud chatter drifted in through the open window from other compartments, and the constant jostling of the carriage made it a poor environment for concentration.
Yet in this otherwise empty compartment, the boy remained completely focused on the knowledge within his book.
That calm expression.
Those steady hands.
He seemed entirely unaffected by the outside world. If not for the soft rustling of pages and the subtle movement of his gray eyes scanning the lines, one might have thought he was simply staring blankly at the pages...
...
[101 Spellcasting Techniques]
Judging by the title, it was clearly a book about spellcasting. The actual contents were unknown, so there was no way to tell whether it truly contained 101 techniques, or how advanced it might be.
Still, it didn't change the fact that he was clearly absorbing magical knowledge from it.
Keep in mind—this wasn't the kind of book a first-year student could easily comprehend before even entering a wizarding school.
Simply put, at his age, mastering most magical spells was already a challenge—let alone studying spellcasting techniques.
Even with the benefit of early education thanks to his background, this wasn't something someone his age should be learning...
After all, techniques rely on a firm grasp of one's magical power and the ability to skillfully cast spells.
To put it plainly, without a solid foundation in magic, how could one possibly have the capacity to think about conserving magical energy or shortening casting time?
This kind of knowledge definitely wasn't meant for a young boy who hadn't even started school...
But in every world, there are always a few exceptional individuals.
Like the boy sitting here now—just like his name, he was indeed something special.
Draco...
...
Dragon.
In Western mythology, dragons are legendary creatures often associated with evil—symbols of greed and destruction.
But beyond those darker meanings, they also represent great power.
So, he was named Draco.
It was a name chosen in the hope that, one day, he would grow into a powerful wizard—one with the strength of a dragon...
Draco.
Full name: Draco Malfoy.
At just eleven years old, whether he would truly become such a powerful wizard was still anyone's guess.
What was clear, though, was that he already carried the air of a perfect noble...
...
If you looked closely, you'd notice something subtle.
As Draco read the book in his hands, his long, elegant fingers moved idly at his side, tracing the air in seemingly random patterns—almost like he was sketching some kind of mysterious rune. It was hard to tell whether this was a reading habit or a deliberate act...
The stillness of that moment, so calm and almost picturesque, was suddenly and unceremoniously broken by the loud slide of the compartment door.
"Excuse me..."
"How rude."
Without even giving the visitor a chance to finish speaking, Draco lifted his gaze from the book and cut them off with a flat remark.
His tone was casual, but somehow it still carried a strange pressure...
Leaning back in his seat.
Pages slowly turning.
He sat there in the afternoon light like a dragon stretched across a hoard of treasure, savoring the taste of wealth.
Except Draco's treasure wasn't gold—it was the book in his hands, the knowledge of magic within it...
...
The abrupt silence caused the girl who had just entered to freeze, her next words catching in her throat.
In Draco's eyes, this uninvited guest was a rude and impolite intruder. But she was also a fellow student—another first-year about to begin her studies at Hogwarts.
Draco shifted his attention from the book to the girl who'd barged into the compartment. Judging from her clothes, she too was a new student.
Her thick, frizzy brown hair didn't do her any favors, but those bright, intelligent brown eyes gave her a charm that other girls didn't seem to have.
Maybe that was what they called "spirit"?
Still, the girl—this soon-to-be classmate—looked a little uneasy. Whether it was because she'd realized how rude she'd been barging in without knocking, or because of Draco's unsettling presence, even she probably didn't know.
To an eleven-year-old witch, his elegant but intimidating gaze was both scary and intriguing.
"Um... have you seen my toad?"
Their wordless staring match was finally broken by a teary voice from behind her, reminding the little witch why she'd come in the first place.
"Y-yes, excuse me... have you seen Neville's pet?"
"Oh! Is that a book about spellcasting?"
"So you can already cast spells? Can I see one?"
"Judging by your uniform, you must be a first-year too. Did you teach yourself, or...?"
Her gaze had wandered at first, but the moment she spotted the book in Draco's hand, everything changed. The shy girl from moments ago was gone—replaced by someone completely different. In a way, that was part of her charm.
Excitement.
Confidence.
Her friendly, nonstop chatter left Draco no chance to respond. She even forgot why she came in the first place, leaving the boy behind her—Neville—on the verge of tears.
Actually, he was already crying...
Draco blinked, caught off guard by her sudden burst of energy. Then his gray eyes studied the lively little witch in front of him.
More accurately, they studied her expressive eyes...
Snap!
The sound of the book closing cut through her endless stream of words, stopping her at just the right moment. Draco was fairly certain she would have kept talking until nightfall if he hadn't done something.
"Though the intelligence in your eyes is quite captivating."
"Eh??"
The sudden compliment made the young witch's eyes widen in surprise.
Precocious as she was, a flush of embarrassment crept across her cheeks.
Draco, meanwhile, seemed completely unaware of how easy it was to misread what he'd just said...
But before the girl could decide how to respond, Draco's next words made her eyebrows scrunch in frustration.
"But... that's still no excuse to interrupt me."
The words were calm, but there was a cold superiority in his tone that shut people out. The young witch frowned, forming a clear impression of this strange boy in her heart.
Weird—and completely insufferable...